Roohi’s POV

I never imagined life could feel this surreal, this overwhelmingly beautiful.

Vivaan and I had always dreamed of growing old together, creating a life full of love and little moments of happiness. But neither of us expected the kind of surprise life had in store for us.

I still remember the moment our doctor smiled warmly and said, "Roohi, Vivaan, congratulations! You're having twins."

Vivaan had frozen, his fingers gripping mine tightly, as if trying to anchor himself to reality. I, on the other hand, had burst into laughter through my tears. The sheer disbelief, the joy, the nervous excitement - we felt it all at once.

Vivaan had whispered, "Twins?" as if saying it out loud would make it more real.

"Twins," I had echoed, squeezing his hand.

Since then, our world had turned into a whirlwind of emotions, preparations, and an outpouring of love from our families. Now, at seven months pregnant, I had fully embraced this phase of life, surrounded by warmth and care.

"Roohi, beta, have you eaten enough? Should I bring more kheer?" Ma’s voice rings from the kitchen as I settle into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

"Maa, please, I just ate two bowls!" I protest, laughing, but I know resistance is futile.

Maa and Papa also stays with us since they knew they are going to be grandparents.

Vivaan walks in, his gaze immediately landing on me. His eyes soften as he takes in my slightly swollen feet.

"You should be resting, Roohi. Come here," he says, guiding me gently into his lap before propping up my legs on the coffee table.

"Vivaan, I'm not fragile," I remind him, though secretly, I love the way he fusses over me.

"I know," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you."

My heart melts.

"Also, Maa, she shouldn't be eating so many sweets. It's not fair. The babies already get all the love, what about me?" he teases, feigning jealousy.

"Oh, you!" I nudge him playfully, but he simply wraps his arms around me, holding me close.

Over these months vivaan has become my mom's favorite. She loves him more than she loves me. And my heart feels so happy seeing them share a mother and son bond.

Daadi, enters, carrying a plate of dry fruits. "Vivaan, don’t trouble my Roohi. And you, beta, you need to eat well. These little ones are growing inside you."

"Thank you, Daadi," I smile, taking the plate.

Vivaan groans. "Everyone’s so biased! Roohi gets everything, and I get scolded."

"That’s because I’m carrying your children, Mr. Chaturvedi," I tease, poking his cheek.

"And doing an excellent job at it, Mrs. Chaturvedi," he says, grinning before kissing my cheek.

Later that night, I wake up feeling a bit restless.

Vivaan is sitting beside me, sketchbook in hand, completely engrossed in his drawing. The dim glow of the bedside lamp casts a soft halo around him.

"Vivaan?" I murmur.

He looks up immediately, setting his book aside. "What happened? Are you okay? Do you need something?" His concern is instant, eyes searching mine.

I shake my head. "Just woke up. What were you drawing?"

He hesitates for a moment before flipping the sketchbook around.

It’s us.

A beautiful, delicate charcoal sketch of me resting on his lap, my hand on my belly, his hand over mine. The love, the anticipation, the wonder—it’s all captured in those strokes.

"You amaze me, you know that?" I whisper, tracing the lines.

He takes my hand, placing a soft kiss on my fingers. "It’s nothing compared to what you’re doing, Roohi. You’re carrying our little miracles. Every time I look at you, I wonder how I got so lucky."

Tears well in my eyes, but before I can say anything, he shifts closer, wrapping me in his arms.

"I love you," he murmurs against my hair.

"I love you too," I whisper back, my heart full.

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